Caroline Anderson - Anyone Can Dream

She saw him through the leaded lights, walking swiftly up the hall, and the door swung inwards to reveal him dressed in impossibly sexy jeans and a loose, startlingly white silk shirt. The cuffs were rolled back to reveal a tantalising glimpse of those sexy forearms, and Charlotte’s breath caught.

‘Come in—you’re right on time; my directions can’t be that bad.’ He gestured for her to come in, and his lips curved in that ready smile she found she was beginning to look for more and more.

She returned the smile and handed him a box of after-dinner mints. ‘Here—my contribution to the meal. I’m afraid I know nothing about wine, so I thought it was safest!’

He took the box with a smile. ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I don’t drink anyway, but these will really hit the spot. Come on through—I thought we’d go in the conservatory and take advantage of the last of the evening sun.’

She followed him down the long hall, past several doors and through a bright, airy kitchen with white units and a tiled floor, out into a very traditional Victorian-type conservatory.

He gestured to a wicker chair with fat, squashy cushions on it, and she perched on the edge and looked down the garden.

‘Oh, how pretty!’

‘It’s lovely, isn’t it? It was a mess when I moved in, but my mother’s a landscape gardener and she designed it for me.’

He handed her a tall glass, clinking with ice and beaded with condensation. ‘Here—you look hot.’

‘I am—it’s been a scorcher,’ she agreed.

He lowered himself on the other chair and stretched out luxuriously with a sigh. ‘Oh, it’s nice to sit down.’

‘Have you been working?’ she asked in surprise.

His grin was wry. ‘Only on the house—it was a tip. Still, it needed doing!’

Charlotte squirmed guiltily. ‘You shouldn’t have done that—not for me.’

He laughed. ‘You didn’t see it! Anyway, it had to be done before Monday. I have a Mrs Mop, but she’s gone off to Majorca for a holiday and left me to my own devices for a week. If she came back and saw it like it was, she’d give me the sack.’

She smiled, as she was meant to, and sipped the cool, refreshing drink. ‘Oh, this is lovely.’

‘Is it OK? It’s an alcohol-free spritzer, because I knew you’d be driving.’

‘It’s perfect.’ She rolled the ice-cold glass against her forehead. ‘Mmm.’

He stood up abruptly. ‘We’re having a salad,’ he told her, his back towards her. ‘All sorts of bits of this and that. OK?’

‘It sounds delicious,’ she told him, puzzled by his sudden exit from the conservatory. ‘Anything I can do?’

‘Talk to me while I make the vinaigrette.’

She had slipped off her shoes, and padded silently over the cool tiles into the kitchen.

‘What about?’

He jumped and turned. ‘Damn it, woman, don’t sneak around—you’ll give me heart failure!’

She giggled. ‘Sorry.’

A slow grin crept across his face, and he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles across her cheek.

‘I’ll forgive you—as you’re so lovely.’

Charlotte swallowed, suddenly feeling trapped.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, but her voice sounded thready and slightly strangled.

‘I wasn’t.’ For once his voice was serious, and she felt his hand again, open this time, his palm dry and cool against her flushed cheek. His thumb stroked softly under her eye, then round, grazing her bottom lip. It caught, tugging gently, and she felt desire shoot through her.

‘William,’ she pleaded, but whether for him to stop or go on she didn’t know.

However he stopped, and she was shocked at the wave of disappointment she felt. He turned away, his jaw working, and started pouring ingredients into a little bottle. ‘Do you mind raw garlic in the dressing?’ he asked, and she heard a slight rasp in his voice.

So it wasn’t just her.

‘No—no, that’s fine,’ she told him a little blankly, her eyes mesmerised by the jumping muscle at the corner of his jaw, just in front of his ear.

He bent and took something out of the fridge, and her eyes followed his movements, savouring the taut pull of the jeans over his neat bottom, the glimpse of dark hair on his chest through the buttons of his shirt as he turned back, the flexing of muscle in his forearm as he pressed the fresh garlic and scraped it into the bottle.

He lifted his eyes, spearing her with a brilliant blue gaze. ‘If you watch me like that, you’re likely to land yourself in deep trouble,’ he advised gently, and she swallowed.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise—I was enjoying it.’

Her eyes fell, and she swallowed again. Was it her imagination, or did his jeans fit more snugly than before? She looked hastily away. This was ridiculous. She had never intended this to happen when she came here tonight! She must be out of her mind, ogling him and giving him ideas. Women like her——

‘Penny for them.’

She shook her head, and then started as his hands closed over her shoulders and turned her back towards him.

‘Let’s get this out of the way, shall we? Then perhaps we can both concentrate.’

Oh, God, he’s going to kiss me, she thought in desperation, and then it was too late to think, because those sensuous, beautiful lips were on hers, like the touch of a butterfly, light and delicate, searching.

She made a tiny moue of sound and his arms slid round behind her, coaxing her up against his long, rangy body as his mouth settled more firmly against hers. She felt the warm tip of his tongue caress her lips, and her mouth opened of its own accord to receive his kiss.

His tongue felt like velvet, warm, coaxing, seeking hers out and dallying with it, then retreating, encouraging hers to follow in a little dance.

She played along, fascinated by the texture of his mouth, the clean, sharp edge of his teeth, the firm fullness of his lips—and his taste, sweet and fresh, with a faint trace of mint.

He eased away, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and nipping it gently with his teeth. The sharp stab of desire shocked her and she jerked away, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling with her ragged breathing. Their eyes were locked, and she was stunned at the raw animal need etched on his face.

He quickly blanked it and moved away.

There—that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he said casually, but his voice was as ragged as her breathing and his body betrayed him.

She felt her shoulders droop. What happened next? Was she expected to sleep with him? Sing for her supper, so to speak?

Her silence must have registered, because he put down the bowl of salad he was carrying and came over to her, his hands cupping her shoulders and kneading gently.

‘Charlotte, it’s all right. We don’t have to take this anywhere if you don’t want to.’

But I do! she wanted to shout, but couldn’t. Anyway, if they did he would soon lose interest in her.

Funny how much the idea of that hurt.

She shook her head helplessly. ‘I thought we were looking at a video.’

‘We will—hell, Charlotte, I wasn’t trying to get you here under false pretences. I don’t work like that. If you want to watch the video, we’ll watch the video. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. If you change your mind about——’ His broad shoulders shifted in a little shrug, and his mouth tipped slightly. ‘Let’s take it hour by hour, shall we?’

‘Can we?’ she asked, doubtful.

‘Oh, yes. Let’s start with supper because I’m starving, then we’ll go and watch the video and look through the literature, and then—well, we’ll see.’

‘No,’ she said, her panic surfacing finally through the haze of desire. ‘No, we’ll have supper and watch the video, and then I’ll go home. I don’t care if you accuse me of running away——’